Somewhere in London, in a safe deposit box under the name "G. Martin (Mrs.)," there sits a stack of blurry photographs of Anna Wintour killing seal pups and drinking their blood while she kicks orphans from war-torn countries in the face.

Vogue Magazine August 2010IssueEditorial: "Beauty and the Feast"Photographed by Mario Testino

"I always feel closest to my father, who was the love of my life until his death in 2002, when I am in the kitchen. I can still hear him over my shoulder, heckling me, telling me to be careful with my knife, moaning with pleasure over a bite of something in only the way a Jew from Long Island can, his shoulders doing most of the talking. I will never forget how concentrated he looked in the kitchen….It was as if the deliciousness of the food would convey the love he felt in direct proportion….Health food was never really on the agenda, it was about fun and deliciousness and togetherness….The most striking aspect about his cooking was how much joy he derived from feeding people that he loved. I mean, genuine, bursting happiness….This book is meant to channel the ethos of my father by sharing the greatest gifts that he imparted to me. Invest in what's real. Clean as you go. Drink while you cook. Make it fun. It doesn't have to be complicated. It will be what it will be."

Honestly? She's not saying anything HORRIBLE here. It's just this overwhelming sense that we're supposed to think she's wonderful for saying it and that the inner workings of her mind (such as it is) are totally fascinating - and worse, illuminating - to the rest of us.

And the pictures just looks stupid. It's not about the clothes or her style; it's about this constant pushing of an image of a sophisticated and earthy, wise and spiritual woman who is balancing motherhood and career and blahblahblah. Just make movies, Gwynnie. Sometimes you stumble into a halfway decent one.

And anyone who takes us to task for criticizing this outrageously self-important, pampered-her-entire-life celebrity, gets a point and a laugh from us. Go and read the entire fawning article at Vogue. It is RIDICULOUSLY over the top.